


On the Cutting Room Floor

by Snooky



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:24:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1741274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snooky/pseuds/Snooky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2010 PBA silver award winner: Best medium comedy: What could have been. Missing scenes and alternate endings from various episodes. Next chapter: What they really needed was chicken soup! Originally published in 2009.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Cutting Room Floor

Disclaimer: Hogan's Heroes is owned by Bing Crosby Productions. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter One.

A missing scene from "No Names Please."

Not betaed. All punctuation and grammatical errors are mine.

 

Klink saw it. As Hochstetter was prattling on in that irritating, bombastic tone, waving the newspaper and throwing out accusations, Klink noticed.

Hogan was nervous. No, he was more than nervous. The usually unflappable senior POW officer was rapidly drumming his fingers on the arms of the chair in which he was seated. The Kommandant continued to deny that the POW camp mentioned in the reporter's article was his, all the while, observing the telltale signs of guilt spewing from the American colonel.

The Kommandant, without explanation, doubled the perimeter guard and had all prisoners confined to barracks. He then sent a guard, not Schultz, but someone he felt was more competent, over to Barracks two to fetch Colonel Hogan. Glancing out the window, he stared at the empty compound for several seconds, then walked over to his desk and poured himself a shot of liquor, which he drank in one gulp. Klink then took a seat and awaited his visitor.

The knock at the door soon came. Klink took a deep breath. "Enter," he said. The guard opened the door and Hogan came strolling in, just like he had done hundreds of times before, or was there a slight touch of nervousness about him? Klink couldn't tell.

"You wanted to see me, Kommandant?"

"Sit down." Klink pointed to the chair.

"Corporal," Klink spoke to the guard. "Stay here and close the door. " He waited a moment for the guard to shut the door, and then looked at Hogan.

Remarkable, he thought. Despite the guard's presence, the American's face was impassive and showed no obvious signs of emotion or wariness. Hogan had crossed his leg and had slouched a bit in the chair, making himself at home, just as he'd done in the past.

An outside noise broke the silence. Hogan heard it and stiffened slightly. Klink walked over to the window. As he had ordered, every available man was now digging at various places throughout the compound.

"Colonel Hogan." Klink turned. "I am placing you under arrest on suspicion of running an espionage and rescue unit out of this camp."

"You can't be serious," Hogan protested. "This is the toughest prison…"

"Stop with the lies, Hogan. My guards are already digging. They'll find the tunnels." Klink signaled the guard. "Corporal. Handcuff Colonel Hogan and escort him to the cooler."

Stunned speechless, Hogan let himself be restrained. Klink warned him. "They'll be several guards posted outside your cell, and you will be under constant observation. Your men will suffer the consequences if anything happens. Do you understand?"

Colonel Hogan nodded, but as he left with the guard, Klink noticed one thing. The wheels were already turning in Hogan's head.

Crash… The Kommandant paused a brief moment, hoping that no one had heard the shattering of the shot glass he had thrown against the wall in his living room. Klink had been drinking. His eyes were now bloodshot. He had put on his bathrobe, but had neglected to tie it, and the late night snack he had prepared lay forgotten and untouched on a table. Now the contents of his stomach were threatening to make an appearance. He ran into the bathroom, only to discover, to his relief, that it was a false alarm. Splashing cold water onto his face, he stared into the mirror and frankly he didn't like what he saw.

"You're a fool," he mumbled. "A no good, sniveling, idiotic fool. Only useful for keeping books." He hiccupped and returned to the living area. "Where's my glass?" Seeing the shards on the floor, Klink thought a moment, gave up, grabbed the bottle and drank the contents straight up. He had begun his drinking spree over an hour ago, when his little fantasy turned into reality, and he came to the conclusion that he would rather be a live, cowardly bureaucrat than a dead hero.

He now suspected with almost one hundred percent certainty that Stalag 13 was the POW camp mentioned in the American newspaper article. But what could he do? He was caught between a rock and a hard place. He could confront and arrest Hogan. Expose him and his operation, win a medal and then get shot for being incompetent. Yes, Hochstetter would revel in that humiliation.

No. Klink had decided to forget what he had seen. He would go along with another one of Hogan's convoluted plans and continue, he supposed, for the rest of the war, to be oblivious to whatever was going on around him. He then came to a dreadful realization. To save his skin, he had to make sure that Hogan's operation continued safely. And with that thought, he drained the bottle and threw that against the wall as well.

 

Chapter 2: Get your flu shots!

Missing scene from "Look at the Pretty Snowflakes"

Morning dawned over Hammelburg, Germany, and the inhabitants of Luftstalag 13 began their daily routine. Roll call was shortened, as both the barrack's guard, Schultz, and the Kommandant were nursing colds. A large blanket of snow covered the ground and the men had to blow on their hands to keep warm.

"Schultz, it's too cold, everyone is confined to barracks," Klink ordered.

"Kommandant?" Hogan wanted to catch Klink before the Kommandant went inside.

"What is it? Achoo!"

"Gesundeidt. Request permission to go to the infirmary to see my men." Several prisoners, including Hogan's second in command, Sergeant Kinchloe, were down with the flu.

"Granted." Klink waved his hand. "Just don't catch anything." Klink ran back to his quarters.

Hogan entered the building and after checking with Wilson, paid a quick visit to every soldier that was laid up. He visited Kinch last. The sergeant, who was fortunately able to sit up, questioned the colonel about the previous day's mission.

"Heard you played a mean set of drums, sir." Kinch coughed. "Sorry I missed it."

"As jam sessions go," Hogan ruminated. "It wasn't bad. But in the long run, it didn't work."

Kinch let out a small laugh. "You're not going to make me believe Klink's sneeze started the avalanche."

Hogan shrugged. "Don't know. But it got the job done." He grinned. "Take it easy, Kinch."

"Will do, colonel.

Relieved that no one was in any danger and that Kinch had trained Baker as backup, Hogan left the hut and hustled back to his barracks.

 

Chapter 3: Keep Your Day Job

Missing scene from: "Top Hat, White Tie and Bomb Sights"

"Kommandant. If you don't mind, I'd like to get out of this German uniform. If the men see me walking around like this, they may get the wrong idea."

"It really doesn't matter what the men think, Hogan. Besides, we can pull the staff car right outside…"

"Of course, Colonel Hogan," Burkhalter interrupted Klink. "Take whatever time you need to change and freshen up."

"Go ahead, Hogan." As usual, Klink changed his tune and agreed with Burkhalter.

"Thank you, sir." When the car stopped, Hogan offered the German officers a somewhat wobbly salute and headed back towards his barracks. Still feeling a bit tipsy from the champagne, the colonel opened the door to find his men waiting in anticipation for news of how the mission had turned out.

"Any problems, sir?" Kinch asked, as Hogan, who had already started unbuttoning his borrowed jacket, headed for his office.

"No problems," Hogan replied. "The packet was delivered and Burkhalter took the bait." He started to laugh. "You should've seen Klink's face when his lady friend obviously preferred my company. You know, Klink is very thoughtful. Both of the ladies spoke perfect English."

"I can see that Klink's fraulein preferred your company, Colonel." LeBeau slipped the jacket onto a hanger. "You have some lipstick on your cheek." He handed Hogan a handkerchief.

"Now I get to deliver the coup de graces." Suddenly, the colonel's face went pale. "I've got a big problem."

The men in the barracks fell silent. Alarmed, they gathered around the colonel. "Sir?" Carter asked.

"Burkhalter's brought in an expert. They expect me to draw a diagram of the Norden bombsight."

"I thought you are going with a vacuum cleaner," Kinch reminded the colonel.

"That's the problem." Hogan told him. "I can sketch out the bombsight with my eyes closed. But a vacuum cleaner? Quick, gimme some paper."

"Damn." The colonel was trying to sketch out a vacuum and failing miserably. "This isn't gonna work." He stood up. "All right, who here can draw?" No one came forward. "Come on! One of you has to be able to sketch out a vacuum cleaner from memory."

"Wow, sir." Carter came over and glanced at Hogan's artwork. "I thought you could do anything," he mumbled.

"Sorry I had to burst your bubble," Hogan told the sergeant. "I got transferred out of art class in seventh grade. After only two weeks. To tell you the truth, my parents didn't even hang my kindergarten pictures on the icebox. They were that bad."

"Now that's really sad, sir, " Newkirk shook his head. "But look at the bright side. We didn't even 'ave an icebox."

Several of the men were now attempting to draw the appliance, while a few others were frantically looking for an advertisement in old magazines.

"That looks like an elephant with a swollen foot." Garth was looking over Olsen's shoulder.

"Gee, thanks." Olsen crumpled up his piece of paper and tossed it on the floor. "I never paid attention to what the vacuum cleaner looked like. My mom always did the vacuuming."

"Got it!" Hammond had discovered a pre-war issue of Life. Fortunately, the Germans hadn't censored the Hoover advertisement.

"Great!" Hogan grabbed the magazine and studied the picture. He proceeded to sketch out the appliance until he could do it from memory. Finally satisfied with his progress, he stood up. "Well, it's showtime. Here we have it." He held up the piece of paper. "The not so famous Norden vacuum cleaner."

"Good luck, sir." Kinch took the picture from the colonel and tossed it into the stove. "I wish I could see their faces."

"I think I'm going to ruin their evening." Hogan grinned. "Listen in. It should be amusing." He opened the door to the barracks and got one foot out before Carter stopped him.

"Just curious, Colonel. When you got kicked out of art class, what class did you transfer into?"

"German." Hogan closed the door and headed for the Kommandant's office.  
Chapter 4: Rules are made to be Broken

Missing scene from "Colonel Klink's Secret Weapon"

Hogan was laughing as he entered Barracks two. In one fell swoop, he and his men had successfully ridden the camp of the regulation –driven Sergeant Franks, while at the same time, sending Lieutenant Bigelow on his merry way.

"I had a hard time holding it in," Carter commented. "Especially when his pants came off."

"Your victory sign with the invisible ink was brilliant, Carter," Kinch chuckled.

"Chalk one up for the good guys," Hogan said. "I'm putting Bigelow in for a commendation," he remarked. "It's the least we can do, considering what he went through. He really saved us when he hid all that dirt."

"Not to mention being trapped in the tunnel and forced to eat canned sardines!" LeBeau shuddered. "I still can't figure out how he got rid of all that dirt so fast."

Olsen meandered over to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. "You know," he said as he stroked his chin. "I feel sorry for Bigelow. I can't imagine having to put up with a guy like Franks all the way from here to the sub."

"Bigelow has a gun and he's not afraid to use it." Hogan reminded the men. "And once they land, Franks will become someone else's headache."

That headache became a migraine as the Allied prisoner of war camp system soon discovered. Franks was assigned to a POW camp located in England, and he quickly alienated both the camp population and the administration. He was then transferred to another camp. The officer in charge of that camp vowed to take revenge on the officer who dumped the German sergeant on his doorstep. In order to avoid certain violence, this officer took a bold step, called in some favors, and managed to send Franks on his way. This time, the sergeant was now a passenger on a ship headed towards Canada, where he was politely processed into yet another Allied prisoner of war camp.

The Canadian reputation for politeness only went so far. The final straw came when Franks demanded that roll call for the prisoners be pushed up 2 hours. When the Canadian guards threatened to go AWOL, and his bunkmates staged an escape attempt to another barracks, the camp administrator had seen enough. Franks was then sent packing, this time to California. Franks then spent the remainder of the war in a more laid back environment, a fate he considered almost worse than death, but not quite. He wasn't that insane.

Fortunately for Hogan and his men, their part in Frank's odyssey remained a secret. But they did keep the shirt with the victory sign as a souvenir.

 

Chapter 5: Road Trip

Missing scene from "A Tiger Hunt in Paris, part one"

Once they were on the road, Hogan and LeBeau tried to settle themselves comfortably in the luggage carrier on top of the staff car.

"Might as well try and get some rest, LeBeau. It's gonna be long drive."

Hogan tried unsuccessfully to stretch out his legs. He glanced over at LeBeau, whose frame was clearly more suited to this mode of transportation. The two men both groaned as the car hit a pothole.

LeBeau whispered something in Hogan's ear.

Hogan sighed."Didn't you go before we left?"

"Oui. But the bumps!"

"Hold it."

LeBeau crossed his legs.

"Are we there yet?"

"No, LeBeau. And you asked me that 15 minutes ago."

"Sorry. I'm bored."

"Well, why don't you teach me some French phrases?"

"Good idea. Let's see." LeBeau thought for a moment. "Actually, there's only one thing you need to know. Répétez après moi."

"Huh?"

"Just repeat what I say."

"Oh, Okay, go ahead."

"Parlez-vous anglais?"

Hogan repeated the sentence.

"Good. Now, Colonel. If the answer is yes, you can carry on the conversation in English. If the answer is non, well then you have me as a translator."

"Works for me," Hogan said.

"If you don't mind me asking, Sir. How come you didn't learn French in school? It is the language of love, romance, business, and of course, ballet."

"Well, LeBeau. There's a good reason. In seventh grade, when I was about 12, we had to choose between French and German. Now, there was Mr. Dubois. Let's see. He was, maybe, 50. Balding, beady eyes, little on the chubby side. Carried a ruler that he wasn't afraid to use if you screwed up those stupid verbs. On the other hand, there was Miss Frankel."

"Miss Frankel?"

"The German teacher. Right out of teacher's college." Hogan closed his eyes. He could still see her, standing there, with the sweater… He made an hourglass figure with his hands.

"Oh. I understand. And she was nice, Colonel?"

"In more ways than one, LeBeau. No contest."

"Schultz. Are we there yet?" The Kommandant was getting anxious and a bit over-excited.

"No, Kommandant." You asked me fifteen minutes ago. The man was as bad as my children, Schultz thought. "But we are getting close to the border."

"Lucky for us we didn't run into any checkpoints."

"Yes, Kommandant." Lucky for me we didn't run into any checkpoints. That's all the sergeant needed. A luggage search.

"Colonel, are we there yet?"

"LeBeau, you ask me that one more time and you'll be a private when we get back!"

"Sorry, Sir."

"Look," Hogan said, realizing he was being a bit harsh. "I know you're anxious. I'd feel the same way."

"If my mother ever finds out I was in town and I didn't stop for dinner…and not introducing you to the family…"

"After the war, LeBeau. If we make it. I promise. You can introduce me to your family."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Hogan shifted and then held out his hand. "Feel it? We're slowing down."

"Border crossing?"

"Possibly. Start praying."

"Papers?" The bored border guard stared at Klink through the rolled down window, while Schultz trembled in the front.

The Kommandant handed over both sets.

The guard looked them over, then handed them back.

"Business or pleasure?"

"Furlough," Klink said proudly. "You see, I'm the Kommandant at Stalag 13. We've never had a successful escape, but it's a rough…"

The guard wasn't interested. "Any agricultural products?"

Klink sunk down in the seat. "No."

"Any weapons?"

"No."

Please don't ask about the luggage. Please don't ask about the luggage. Schultz kept repeating this to himself, in hopes that telepathically, he would persuade the guard to ignore the top of the staff car.

"You won't look at the luggage," Hogan whispered softly.

"I don't need to look at the luggage," the guard said for some unknown reason.

"We're free to go," Hogan whispered again.

"You're free to go. Enjoy your trip." The guard waved the staff car through.

Hogan grinned.

LeBeau, astonished, stared at his commander. "How did you do that?"

"It's a gift."

"Drive on, Schultz. You know, it's amazing how much respect you get when you tell them you're a Kommandant."

Sure. "Yes, Kommandant."

A while later….

"Kommandant, look! It's the Eiffel Tower!"

Klink peered out the window. "You're right, Schultz. It is the Eiffel Tower!"

"We're almost there!"Schultz exclaimed. "It looks so close!"

"Won't be long now," Klink agreed. "Maybe a few kilometers!"

A while later…

"I thought you said, Kommandant, we only had a few kilometers. The tower is not getting any bigger!"

"I don't understand it. It looked so close!" Klink peered out the window again. "It still looks close. Hmmm?"

"It is an optical illusion, Kommandant."

"Well, Schultz, it is tall!"

"LeBeau, judging how long it's been since we crossed the border, do you have any idea where we are?"

"Well, Colonel. Not far. They've probably spotted the Eiffel Tower."

"Look at the really long wide street."

"I think you're supposed to turn here, Schultz." Klink was attempting to read a map, which had unfortunately taken over the back seat.

The sergeant entered the street, which seemed to stretch on for quite a distance. It was slow going, as he had to avoid the pedestrians, the sandbags, the tanks and the guns. But, as they drove, Klink, who had been reading the map upside down, realized they were heading in the wrong direction.

"Schuuultz! Turn around. We're supposed to go the other way on the Champs Elysée."

"I can't make a U-turn. Isn't this a pretty street?"

"Very well, then. Go to the end and turn around."

Both Hogan and LeBeau had fallen asleep. Hogan, who had been dreaming about Miss Frankel, a sweater and a ruler, was rudely jolted out his slumber, when he found himself flung sideways, almost crushing LeBeau.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

The car swerved again. This time LeBeau rolled into Hogan.

"What the hell? LeBeau, where are we?"

"Judging from the motion of the car, Sir, and the fact that I am about to throw up, I believe they are lost and are trapped in the traffic circle surrounding the Arc de Triomph."

"Don't you dare throw up. That's an order!"

"I'll try not to," LeBeau replied, "but I do have a tendency to get car sick."

"Schultz! You dummkopf! Get us out of here!"

"I'm trying. But no one will let me in."

The staff car was trapped amongst motorcycles, staff cars, jeeps, and an odd assortment of vehicles that had managed to get hold of gasoline. Klink tried to signal by sticking his arm out the window, which only enraged the other drivers and solicited a cacophony of horns, bells and whistles. Suddenly, Schultz saw an opening. He turned the wheel sharply to the right and somehow managed to get out of the circle and onto a side street.

Despite the fact that they were men, Klink and Schultz decided to ask for directions. They were soon sent on their way and pulled up outside Klink's hotel.

The two battered and bruised stowaways quickly realized that they were at their final destination.

"Please be careful when removing your luggage from the overhead compartments, as the contents may have shifted during the flight," Hogan quipped. "Hang on. Wait for Klink to go into the hotel."

"Shifted during the flight." LeBeau chuckled as they worked the kinks out of their limbs and poked their heads out the front.

"Ready?" Hogan asked.

"Ready," LeBeau replied. "Let's hope this end of the mission goes better than the drive."

"Remember, LeBeau. We have to do this again on the way back," Hogan reminded him.

"I'll try and put that out of my mind for now, Sir. After you."

"Thanks," Hogan said as they hopped down and greeted the sergeant.

Let the adventure begin. LeBeau was now excited and anxious to get moving.

If HQ finds out I did this, and I get killed, we'll never hear the end of it. Hogan was thinking.

Oh, boy. Did I get out the wrong side of bed this morning, was Schultz's last thought as he watched the staff car drive away.

Author's note: German probably would not have been offered during the time Hogan was in middle school, due to the war and the anti-German feelings present in the states.

I actually experienced a crazy drive through Paris back in 1982, including a whirlwind trip around the circle! Thought we were going to die and didn't care! What an experience.

 

Chapter 6: Tale of Two Cities

Missing scene from: "Is General Hammerschlag Burning?"

"Ready to leave so soon, Kommandant?"

"Schultz, I've come to the conclusion that someone out there is conspiring against me. This whole soldier of the month thing has got to be a practical joke. Had to use my souvenir money to pay for less than stellar accommodations. Now who would want to play a practical joke on me, Schultz?"

Schultz rolled his eyes and started to put the luggage into the carrier on top of the staff car. He made sure that there was enough space in the middle for Hogan and Kinch.

"I have no idea, Kommandant."

"Someone who's jealous. Maybe someone who was a classmate of mine and knows about my record and believes I don't deserve to have a vacation. Wait here, I have to go pay my bill."

"Yes, Kommandant. That makes perfect sense."

"Hi Schultz!" Hogan and Kinch popped up suddenly behind the sergeant, almost giving him a heart attack.

"Colonel Hooogaaan. Don't startle me like that."

"Sorry. Did you have a nice time?" Hogan asked as he and Kinch climbed up top.

"Well, better than the Kommandant." Schultz chuckled. Klink then came out of the building and waited for Schultz to open the car door. He got into the back seat and noticed a package.

"Schultz, what is this?"

"My souvenirs," Schultz replied.

"You had the money to buy souvenirs? On a sergeant's salary?"

Amazing isn't it? "Yes, Kommandant. I saved some money for a rainy day," he lied.

Klink started looking through the bag; removing each item one by one.

"Eiffel Tower paperweight. A French cookbook. A jigsaw puzzle. Monmartre. 1000 pieces. And five shirts."

"The paperweight is for my desk. The cookbook is for my wife. The puzzle is for Langenscheidt. And the shirts are for my children." Schultz, who had taken the seat behind the wheel, turned around. "Look at the shirts, Kommandant. There is writing on them."

Klink unrolled one. "My father went to Paris and all I got was this lousy t- shirt. What kind of ridiculous souvenir is this?"

"I thought it was funny." Schultz sounded hurt.

"Mmmph! Drive. I want to go home."

Meanwhile: on the top of the car….

"So, Kinch….Quick thinking on your part."

Kinch knew this was coming.

"Made it up as I went along, Colonel. Learned from the best," he quickly added.

"Buttering me up is not going to make up for the abuse," Hogan replied. "First you shut me up, and then you insulted my intelligence."

"Don't forget the eyes," Kinch reminded him. "I insulted your eyes."

"I've been told that's my best feature."

"Personally, I'd go for the hair…Sir."

Hogan started to laugh and then Kinch joined in.

"You should have seen the look on your face, Colonel. I wish I had a camera."

"It wasn't easy keeping quiet, you know. But, since we may have just saved Paris from being blown to smiithereens, I'll overlook this."

"That's very magnanimous, of you," Kinch said in as serious a voice as he could muster. "So, I get to keep my rank and no KP duty?"

"No demotion. No KP," Hogan said. "But, I get to tell LeBeau we saved Paris."

"That's more than fair." Kinch shifted a bit in a fruitless attempt to get more comfortable. "You know, there's got to be a better way to travel."

"It was easier with LeBeau. More space. But don't tell him I said that." Hogan attempted to move over a few inches. "What is with Klink and all this luggage anyway? He packs like he's going on a cruise."

"Making up for other areas in which he is lacking?" Kinch said with a straight face.

"Now that's cruel, Kinch. Frankly I'm beginning to wonder about you."

"Like I said, Colonel. I've learned from the best."

 

Chapter 7: Reflection

….and on a more serious note…

Missing scene from: "Two Nazis for the Price of One"

It had taken no more than a few seconds for the four men remaining in Barracks two to recognize the harsh reality of their current situation. While the rest of the camp population would hopefully escape persecution, they were facing a Gestapo interrogation, possible torture and execution. As Hogan's staff, they would not be left alone.

The colonel had ordered the four to evacuate, but they all unanimously decided to stay.

"One for all and all for one," Lebeau muttered as Hogan left the barracks.

"We're a team and we always will be, won't we, guys?" Carter was now terrified, although he wouldn't admit it.

"We need to take the heat off the rest of the guys in camp." Kinch was trying to think of how to save all of the prisoners, plus the rest of the team.

Newkirk was abnormally quiet. He was attempting to come to grips with the fact that Colonel Hogan was heading out on a suicide mission.

"Let's go." Kinch was the first one out the door. They decided to go into the compound to face head -on what was coming. The only unknown… Would Hochstetter arrest Hogan and take him in for interrogation,...or would the colonel be immediately shot on the spot? They secretly hoped for his sake that it was the latter; although, knowing the Gestapo, he would be taken to headquarters. If that were the case, Kinch decided he would order a full -scale evacuation and close up shop. The colonel was strong, but every man has a breaking point. No matter what happened, Kinch knew in his heart that the five of them would most likely not survive.

Until… After hearing a gunshot, the four spotted Mannheim running from the side of the Kommandantur to the front of the building. The Gestapo agent burst into the office and then inexplicably, more shots were fired.

Hogan understood that in wartime, people would die. He knew that, on his bombing runs, he had caused the deaths of hundreds; some innocent and some not. He never attempted to rationalize it, or think about it too deeply. If he did, it would tear him into pieces. But killing someone in cold blood was not Hogan's style.

It was necessary, he told himself, as he slowly made his way across the compound. Freitag could not be trusted and Hogan was certain of that. The lives of every man in camp were now at risk and he had to protect them. Not to mention the Allies, and this mysterious project. His hand tightened around the Luger he had hidden underneath his jacket.

One way or the other, the colonel knew he was dead, and he knew his men understood that as well. He was proud of them. They had decided to stay behind and they didn't attempt to talk him out of what he was about to do. He prayed they would make it; that their interrogation would not be too harsh. Would Hochstetter believe his story that he was acting alone? He blinked away the tears forming in his eyes and headed up the steps. Hoping that his family would eventually be told the truth, Hogan opened the door and sealed his fate.

Or so he thought… It was pure luck that Klink stopped Hogan before he entered the Kommandant's office. If he had not, Hogan could very well have been a second shooting victim.

The four men and their commanding officer never spoke about their close call that day. Sure, they joked about the irony of the situation and wondered about the secretive Manhattan project, but some things, they agreed, were always better left unsaid.

 

Chapter 8: Every Family Has One

And yet another missing scene from: "Two Nazis for the Price of One."

a/n : I would like to thank Konarciq for supplying me with the idea for this scene. This is for you!

After the incident, Hogan and his men hustled back to the barracks and contacted London to file a quick report. The Colonel excused himself, went into his office and downed a glass of whiskey to try and calm his nerves. He was having a delayed reaction to being dealt a second chance at life, after narrowly escaping what would have been the completion of a suicide mission. Call me lucky, he said to himself. Like a cat. I land on my feet, but I just used up all nine lives. He then thought of something. Hogan grabbed some items from his foot locker, left his office and told his men he was going on an errand.

"Schultz, where's Langenscheidt?"

The guard looked at his watch. "Off duty. Probably in his barracks. Colonel Hogan? May I ask why you are interested in Langenscheidt?"

"No." Hogan handed Schultz a candy bar. "Tell him to meet me in back of the guard's mess, by the compost heap."

"He was, what do you call it? The black lamb of the family?"

"Black sheep."

"Thank you, Colonel. Black sheep."

Colonel Hogan and Corporal Langenscheidt were now having a conversation in an obscure corner of the camp compound, far away from prying eyes and open ears.

"Most families have one, Corporal. So you were first cousins? You could be mistaken for twins."

Langenscheidt shook his head. "No. Second cousins. My mother's first cousin was his mother. Do you know; when we were children, he used to tear the wings off of insects?" He shuddered.

A lot of these goons would probably fit into that category. "Really?" Hogan tried to look surprised.

"Yes. Confidentially," Langenscheidt lowered his voice. "We, meaning the whole family, were not too happy about his work. We don't like the Gestapo. But, in his defense, when I was drafted, he got me posted to this stalag!"

"Well, that was good news for all of us."

Langenscheidt was touched by the compliment. He knew how lucky he was to be stationed at Stalag 13 and that Colonel Hogan was the senior POW officer. Life at camp had definitely become more interesting since the Colonel had arrived.

"I'm glad you weren't hurt, Colonel. And the Kommandant and Sergeant Schultz, as well," he quickly added.

"Close call. But it's not the first time." Hogan reached into his pocket and held out several candy bars. "Here. I usually save these for someone else. But, in some way, I owe your cousin a favor. However, since, he's…"

"It's all right. I always expected something like this would happen. But, I don't understand. Why do you owe him a favor?"

"Don't try to understand. Just take the bars."

Langenscheidt smiled. "Keep the bars for Sergeant Schultz, Colonel. I don't need the chocolate to occasionally look the other way."

Hogan didn't press the issue. He put the candy bars back in his pocket.

"You should get back to the barracks, Colonel. I'll walk you back."

Hogan looked at his watch. "You're right."

Langenscheidt saw Hogan to the door.

He doesn't belong here, Hogan thought. Hell, most of us in this rat hole don't belong here. "Thanks, Corporal."

"You are welcome, Colonel. Can you please do me a favor?"

"I'll try."

Langenscheidt lowered his voice. "Stay away from the Gestapo. Eventually, this will end one way or the other. I wish to see that you are still here when the time comes."

Hogan grinned and then gave Langenscheidt a friendly slap on the back. "Just keep looking the other way, and I promise you I'll do everything I can to see that we are all here when the time comes." He winked at the Corporal, opened the door and disappeared into the barracks.

Langenscheidt stared at the door for a few moments. He was interrupted by Schultz. "Everything all right, Karl?" the sergeant asked.

"Yes, Sergeant. For now, everything is fine."

 

Chapter 9: Han's and Karl's Excellent Adventure

A missing scene from "Art for Hogan's Sake"

"I've had a lovely time."

"Yes, Schultz, we know." Hogan and LeBeau were trying to hold onto the swaying sergeant, in an effort to stop him from toppling onto the sidewalk.

"Here comes Langenscheidt with the car. LeBeau, you sit with Schultz in the back."

"It will be my pleasure, Colonel," the corporal said.

The car stopped. Langenscheidt got out and opened up the back door.

"Come on, General." Hogan attempted to guide Schultz into the back seat. "He's completely smashed."

"That's not good." Langenscheidt was nervous. "What about the checkpoints?"

"I think he handles himself better when he's inebriated," Hogan joked. "Don't worry. I'll sit with you in the front."

"Something is wrong here," the corporal mumbled. But, he gamely took his place behind the steering wheel, figuring he had no choice but to trust that the colonel would somehow get them back to Stalag 13 in one piece.

"The last time I saw Paris." Schultz started to sing. "Her trees were dressed for spring, and lovers…and lovers…."

"Walked beneath those trees," LeBeau broke in. "And birds…Come on. Everyone join in."

Hogan refused. "I don't sing."

"Colonel Hogan, I insist." The sergeant was now crying.

"Please, Colonel. Look at him." LeBeau pointed to Schultz.

Hogan relented and Langenscheidt followed. "And birds… found songs to sing. . . . The last time I saw Paris, Her heart was warm and gay. No matter how they change her, I'll remember her that way." (1)

"Touching." Schultz sighed.

"Here." LeBeau handed Schultz a handkerchief.

"Honk!"

"Good grief. No, you can keep it," LeBeau said when Schultz tried to hand back the handkerchief.

"Stop the car! Stop the car!" LeBeau cried frantically several minutes later. The car screeched to a halt. Both Hogan and Langenscheidt turned around. Schultz had fallen asleep on top of LeBeau, who was now squished against the window. "Get him off of me. I can't breathe."

"Boy," Hogan said as he opened the door and ran around to the back. "You think he would be able to hold his liquor."

Langenscheidt and Hogan made several attempts to pull Schultz off of LeBeau. The gyrations woke the sergeant up.

"I see nothing."

"Schultz, wake up." Hogan slapped the sergeant several times, which seemed to do the trick.

"Did I fall asleep?"

"Yes, on me!" LeBeau yelled. "You need to cut back on the strudel!"

Having saved the diminutive corporal, Langenscheidt and Hogan returned to the front, and the four resumed their trip.

Schultz turned to LeBeau.

"Cockroach. Did you remember the painting?"

"It's in the trunk."

"Did you remember our lunch?"

"It's up here with me." Hogan held up a bag.

"Good."

After about 20 minutes, Hogan pulled a pencil, a directional compass, a protractor, a compass, and a map out of his pocket.

"Colonel Hogan?"

"Yes, Schultz."

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure we don't get lost, Schultz."

"It's a direct route, Colonel." Langenscheidt peered over. Seeing the map and instruments, he commented. "Something is wrong here. Colonel Hogan, I swear you are up to no good."

"Nonsense," LeBeau replied. "It's in case we get lost, like he said."

"Look at the road sign." The colonel pointed. "Stop the car. Observe."

He opened the door and walked over to the sign. Everyone followed.

Hogan grabbed the sign and twisted it, so it pointed in the opposite direction.

"Now, what if people traveling this road before us, decided to play a little practical joke and turned some signs around like that," LeBeau pointed out.

"Thanks, LeBeau."

"You're welcome, Colonel."

'Where would we be?" Hogan said. "Lost."

"Going in circles," LeBeau added helpfully.

"This way. We have our map and compass." Hogan held them up.

Schultz screwed up his face. "Makes sense, I think."

"Come on." Hogan and LeBeau trudged back to the car. Schultz and Langenscheidt hurried to catch up, while LeBeau mumbled something about snow and Eskimos under his breath.

"Which way do I go?" Langenscheidt, now thoroughly confused, asked.

"That way! Schultz, Hogan and LeBeau said in unison.

"Hold it." Hogan rolled down window. "Stop the car. Feel the rumbling?"

"I feel it, Colonel." LeBeau replied

"Langenscheidt. Turn off here." Hogan pointed to a dirt road heading off into a wooded area.

"But, Colonel," the corporal protested. "We need to stay on the main road."

"It's all right, just a quick detour. We can roll back the odometer, if we need to."

"They are up to monkey business," Schultz pointed out.

"It's a new game, Schultz. Called I spy." Hogan checked the glove box for a set of binoculars.

"Let's go ahead, Schultz, and maybe I'll make quiche with the cheese we're bringing back."

"Quiche! Oh, LeBeau…" Schultz started to drool. "Just one minute and then right back on the main road. Karl, turn."

Langenscheidt obediently went off onto the dirt road.

"Wait in the car." Hogan and LeBeau quickly exited and ran off into the woods.

Taken unawares, both Schultz and Langenscheidt got caught up in their panic to exit the car and ended up running into each other.

"Panzer division, heading west, Colonel."

"Awesome intelligence, LeBeau. Come on." Hogan said. "Back to the car." The two ran headlong into the two guards.

"Something is wrong here." Langenscheidt stated for the umpteenth time.

"Who writes your script?" Schultz glared at the guard, and then shook his finger at Hogan and LeBeau. "Colonel Hoogaaan. It is strictly forbidden to run off into the woods."

"Don't worry," Hogan reassured Schultz. "We would have come back. Klink is holding the other prisoners hostage."

"Back into the car or I will make you two ride up top again."

Langenscheidt looked confused. "Sergeant, what you mean up top again?"

"In the car." Hogan hustled everyone over and plopped himself in the front passenger seat.

"Big mouth," LeBeau berated Schultz.

"Stop the car! Backup." Hogan ordered. Langenscheidt obediently went into reverse. "Look through there." The colonel pointed. "See it?"

"Oui."

"What? See what?"

"Antiaircraft guns, Schultz. That's what? Three, four, LeBeau?"

"Four, Colonel. I got a location."

"Great. Drive."

Langenscheidt put the car in gear and drove on. "You know, Colonel Hogan. I'm not normally a suspicious man, but something tells me that you had an ulterior motive for taking this trip."

"Harrumph," was Schultz's comment. "See nothing," he mumbled.

Hogan smiled. "And what would that be, Corporal?"

Langenscheidt smiled back. "Oh, perhaps I might forget…"

Hogan sighed. "Did you enjoy your wine at the café?"

"Yes."

"The wine in the loft?" LeBeau added.

"Yes, I did. And the wine at breakfast." Langenscheidt turned around. "Do you know how to make crème brulee?"

LeBeau almost jumped out of his seat.

"Easy, cockroach." Schultz pushed the corporal back down.

"Blindfolded and with one hand tied behind my back," LeBeau, who was definitely insulted, grumbled.

"He can. I've seen it." Hogan said.

"Faites le strudel. Préparez le dîner. Soudoyez la garde. Faites la cuisine pour les généraux. Qu'est-ce qu'elle devient, la monnaie ?" (2) LeBeau continued grousing in French, then finally sank down in the seat, crossed his arms and looked up at the roof in disgust.

"What?" Hogan, Schultz and Langenscheidt asked simultaneously.

"Slow down, LeBeau," Hogan ordered.

"I'm sorry, Colonel. Sometimes I feel like I am being taken advantage of."

"I know. I know. It's a sacrifice." Hogan agreed. "Make Langenscheidt the crème brulee when we get back."

"And the quiche?" Schultz reminded everyone.

"Oui. The quiche. At least it's a change from apple strudel." Better than making bombs. LeBeau was at least able to recognize that his talent was a bit less dangerous than Carter's. Resigned to his fate, he grabbed a pencil and a small pad of paper. "I'm taking orders. Anything else?"

(1) Oscar Hammerstein and Jerome Kern. Copyright 1940

(2) Make strudel. Make dinner. Bribe the guard. Cook for the generals. Whatever happened to cash?

 

 

Chapter 10: What Didn't Make it into the Report

Missing scene from "I Look Better in Basic Black"

After making sure that Captain Heinrich and his guards were sufficiently neutralized, Hogan, Newkirk and Lebeau attempted to make their way back into camp.

"What the hell do women have in these things anyway?" Hogan opened up the purse he was carrying. "Oh. No wonder this knocked Heinrich out!"

"Sir?"

"Yes, Newkirk?"

"'Ow in 'eaven's name did we ever get a wig maker?" Newkirk then stumbled. "Blimey. I think me 'eel broke."

"I think I have a run in my stocking," Lebeau grumbled and then turned around. Hogan had stopped a few yards back. "Colonel?"

"Hold on." Hogan appeared to be unsuccessfully attempting to pull up his stockings.

"My stockings slipped out of the garter. Why do women wear these things?" he grumbled.

"I don't know, sir." Newkirk laughed. "Why don't you ask Hilda?"

"Will you two stop staring at my legs?" Hogan gave Lebeau and Newkirk a stern look. "Let's move."

The three continued to make their way back to camp at a much slower pace than normal.

"Merde." Lebeau stopped dead in his tracks.

"What now?" Hogan, exasperated, asked. Lebeau was now down on his hands and knees.

"I lost an eyelash."

"Oh, for pete's sake, Louis; leave it there," Newkirk said.

"I can't. I promised Charlene I'd return all her stuff." Lebeau looked up at Newkirk and Hogan, who were now standing next to him. "Excuse me, mon Colonel, but your boobs are falling." Rags were starting to peek out of the bottom of Hogan's sweater.

"Look at that, Sir!" Newkirk exclaimed. "You've gone from a D cup to a C."

"Found it!" Lebeau held up the missing eyelash and inexpertly stuck it back on his eyelid. The men continued walking. By now the three of them had become almost completely lame from the high heels .

"Stop," Hogan ordered. "Everyone take off their shoes. I'm getting a shin splint."

A few minutes later Newkirk started to complain. "My feet are getting cold, and I just stepped on a rock."

"Great, just great. It's almost impossible to get hold of nylons. Now we're ruining three pairs. How am I supposed to put this on our expense account?" Hogan wondered.

"Send the bill back with the girls?" Newkirk suggested.

"There're the towers. Phew, we're almost there." Lebeau, relieved at finally spotting the sanctuary that was the tunnels, and the uniform that was waiting for him, quickened his pace. "Ouch, ouch!" He stopped and pulled off the pine needles that were going through the stockings and piercing his feet.

Moments later, the three females impersonators crept up to the tree stump and climbed down the ladder. Fortunately the tunnel was empty, as everyone was upstairs with the girls. They tried to change as quickly as they could, but their haste only made matters worse. The now over-stretched bras were not co-operating as the three men couldn't figure out how to unhook the bras while they were still wearing them. They gave up and threw the coats back on over their outfits.

"All right, men. Line up." Lebeau and Newkirk stood at attention for inspection. "Eyelashes gone? Check. Lipstick removed? Check. Wigs off, hair combed? Check. How do I look?" Hogan asked "Everything off?"

"Check," the two corporals replied.

"Great, ladies, shall we?" Hogan said as he went up the ladder.

a/n I'd like to thank my sister Ruth for her contributions to this chapter. We had fun working together!  
Chapter 11: You Can't Tell a Book by its Cover

A Missing scene from "How's the Weather?"

There must be something in the water supply around here that makes these German officers so dumb, Hogan thought as he made his way back to the barracks. No, wait. Can't be. We drink the same water. We're too smart. The colonel chuckled.

"What is so funny, sir?" Kinch had crossed paths with Hogan.

"Burkhalter is as gullible as Klink."

"They're both looking out for number one," Kinch answered.

"True," Hogan replied. The conversation abruptly ended when they entered the empty barracks and stared at the strange tableau that greeted them.

"What the?"

"What is that, Kinch?"

"A poodle, a swan and I think a giraffe, on the beds, sir." Balloon animals had overtaken the hut. "Oh, look. Someone left an elephant on my pillow."

"You sound happy about that, Kinch."

"Well, Colonel…"

Hogan headed for his office and opened his door. "I didn't get one." The colonel sounded disappointed.

"Whoever did this probably didn't want to invade your privacy. Your door was closed," Kinch pointed out.

"Well, I…" Hogan ran his fingers through his hair. "Just because I'm. Never mind." His thoughts and pout were interrupted by Schultz, who as usual, barreled through the door without knocking.

"Colonel Hogan. The Kommandant wants to see you in his office, right away, immediately, at once, without delay."

"Now?" Hogan asked.

"Yes, now." Schultz replied. The sergeant stopped and stared.

Kinch walked up to the sergeant. "Schultz. Something wrong?"

"What's with the?"

"Balloon animals?" Hogan grinned and shrugged. "No clue. They just showed up. I didn't get one."

"He sounds disappointed," Schultz whispered to Kinch, who had followed them out.

Hilda announced the colonel's arrival, but not before Hogan noticed the flowers made out of balloons, now adorning her desk.

"Where did that come from?"

"I don't know, Colonel Hogan. I stepped out for a moment and when I came back, it was on my chair."

Schultz followed the perplexed colonel into Klink's office.

"Colonel Hogan. What is the meaning of this?

"Of what, sir?" Hogan said innocently.

"This." Klink pointed to his chair. Both Schultz and Hogan peered over.

"Oh, that? That would be a dachshund," Hogan said with a straight face.

"Short - haired?" Schultz added.

"Who asked you?" Klink shook his fist at the sergeant.

"I didn't get one," Hogan grumbled under his breath.

"What did you say?" Klink asked.

"Nothing, Kommandant."

"Hogan. These balloons, which were stolen by one of your men…"

"For your anniversary, sir."

"It wasn't my anniversary," Klink whined. "I'm not finished. These balloons are and were the property of the stalag, which means they are the property of the Third Reich."

Hogan was trying hard not to laugh. "Isn't that a bit much?"

"Don't interrupt. I want every balloon animal in this camp rounded up and deflated," Klink said as firmly as he could, then sat down.

"Rounded up?" Hogan asked, "And deflated?"

"Schultz. Have there been reports of animals spotted throughout the property?"

"I beg to report, Kommandant; Corporal Langenscheidt found a pony on his bunk, and someone left a dinosaur on my pillow."

"These balloons can't be deflated," Hogan announced. "Give me the dog."

Klink passed the colonel the dachshund.

"See. Look here. You can't undo these knots. They'll pop."

"Pop. Sounds like a gunshot," Schultz stated.

"Not a good sound," Hogan added.

Klink, who had lost his patience, stood up. "You'll find the man responsible. The balloons will be paid for out of money he earns from his next work detail. Or there will be consequences."

"Sir. that's not fair!" Hogan protested.

"Disssmiissed!" Klink yelled.

"Well, how do you like that?" Hogan said to Schultz as they left the building.

"Overreaction. Good luck, Colonel Hogan."

"Yes, Schultz."

Here I am, trying to win a war, run a spy operation, and destroy German infrastructure, and I'm looking for balloons. And I didn't even get one. Hogan returned to the barracks, this time slamming the door, which startled the men in there.

"Newkirk!" Hogan yelled. "Where is he?"

"Down below, sir." Olsen pointed to the bunk.

"Get that thing off your head." Hogan ordered.

Olsen quickly removed the balloon party hat.

Kinch rolled off the bunk and tapped the edge. "I'll get him." Kinch disappeared and returned a few moments later with Newkirk and Lebeau. Carter trailed behind.

Hogan walked up to Newkirk. "This was funny, but Klink wants all of the balloons back and deflated. And, he didn't appreciate the dachshund."

Confused, Newkirk looked at the menagerie. "Begging your pardon?"

"The balloon animals."

"All those? Not mine. I don't do them. Not in my repertoire. You see, I don't have the lung capacity. Too much fog and coal pollution in the East End, sir."

"Too many cigarettes," someone coughed.

"You didn't do this?" Hogan asked.

"Uh, no, sir." Lebeau piped up. "He was with me. We were mending uniforms."

"Carter?"

"Wasn't me, sir. I mean I can blow things up, but I would pop the balloons if I tried that. No, siree. And those two were down there. I saw them."

"Oh, for crying out loud. I got Klink on my back. Okay, who did it? Come on. Own up," Hogan demanded.

No one stepped forward.

"You said Klink found one in his office?" Kinch, who was smiling, asked.

"Yes," Hogan answered, "Hilda got a flower. And the guards got some. All right, everyone fallout. Go through the whole camp and collect every animal, flower, hat, whatever."

The men stared at the colonel.

"You heard me! Fallout! Scramble!"

The entire barracks emptied in seconds.

"Is this some kind of diversion?" One soldier asked another.

"Must be, otherwise he's lost it."

"Won't be the first time," another one argued.

Bit by bit, the balloon animals were rounded up, brought into Barracks two, and dumped onto the table in front of the colonel.

"We didn't have enough balloons in here to make all of these, Colonel." Carter pointed out.

"True," Hogan agreed.

"Oh, I forgot." Carter reached into his pocket and pulled out a flaccid mess of green, orange and blue rubber. "This was a cobra, but I accidentally stepped on it and she popped."

"Don't worry about it. So," Hogan said. "The perpetrator had to get additional supplies from the club, plus they had access to our barracks and grabbed what was left on the table. Which means…"

"A guard." Carter stated.

"Has to be. Other prisoners wouldn't come in." Hogan got up and headed for his office, saying as he opened the door, "I've got a list of all the guards and… Carter? Come here."

"The sergeant headed over. "Oh' look, Colonel! You finally got one!"

A balloon lion had taken up residence on Hogan's bunk.

"Apropos, wouldn't you say?" He said cheerfully. "But how did it get here?"

"He had to come through the window. Weird." Carter said.

A tapping on the door interrupted the two.

"We've corralled all the animals, Colonel," Newkirk reported. "Even the ones that ended up in the guard's barracks. Oh, good. I see you got one!"

"Okay." Hogan walked out and Carter followed. "Let's gather these up."

It took Hogan and three other men to tote the menagerie to Klink's office. They unceremoniously dumped every single one on the Kommandant's desk.

"All present and accounted for, sir." Hogan saluted.

"Wonderful. Now who is the one responsible?"

"Not one of my men."

"Impossible," Klink insisted.

"I have proof," Hogan retorted. "There are too many animals. We had nowhere near enough balloons left to make these. The guilty party had to get more from the supply at the club. So," Hogan reached over and grabbed a cigar. "I think you owe me and all of my men an apology." He grabbed a chair and sat down.

"I don't apologize to prisoners, Hogan." Klink stood up. "Out!"

"Oh, well then." Hogan stood up. "Have a nice trip."

"Thank you. I… Wait. Where am I going?"

"East. I mean, once Berlin finds out you been hoarding…" Hogan picked up a balloon, "Vital materials needed for the war effort. Rubber!"

Klink quickly plopped into his chair. "Hoarding?"

"Capital offense, isn't it?"

"Well. Wait a minute, Hogan. Balloons aren't rationed. Remember when your men decorated that building for."

"Old scatter-brain's birthday." Hogan finished Klink's sentence. "I stand corrected. I know. I'm leaving."

Hogan headed back towards the barracks, but stopped as he heard a distinctive sound… A pop and then a German curse. He stealthily snuck to the corner of the building he was passing, peered around and smiled.

"Ahem." Hogan cleared his throat.

The startled guard let go of the creature he was in the process of making. It hadn't been knotted and the balloons let out the obnoxious sound of air escaping and sailed to the ground.

"Well now; caught in the act." Hogan smiled.

The guard grinned a sheepish grin.

"So, I see you have developed another hobby," Hogan said. "I won't tell. But you have to stop. The Kommandant's on my back."

"I have to stop anyway, Colonel. I'm out of balloons. Did you like the lion? Sergeant Schultz told me you wanted an animal."

Hogan laughed, but didn't answer.

The guard picked up the unfinished animal. He deftly blew the balloons up and twisted them into shape. He then handed the animal, a bunny, to Hogan. "Last one," he said.

"Thanks. I'll hide it from the Kommandant."

"You're welcome, Colonel." The guard began to walk away and then turned.

"Colonel Hogan. Can you tell Sergeant Kinchloe I'm sorry about the fight? Kommandant Klink made me use the brass knuckles. I thought about it. It wasn't fair."

Hogan was surprised. Guards, even those at Stalag 13, didn't apologize to prisoners.

"And I know I lost."

"Apology accepted. I'll tell Sergeant Kinchloe. One question for now. Why?"

"Ah." Bruno reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of balloons.

"Hey," Hogan said. "Those were the ones we left on the table."

"Yes, Colonel." The guard handed them back to Hogan.

"Those are just your run of the mill party balloons. You need specialized balloons to make animals. They are made from extra stretchy rubber. But," he continued. "I got the idea when Sergeant Schultz and I went into your barracks earlier today. He was looking for you and then he told me to take back the balloons you stole from the club. The animals came from my own supply. When I'm not boxing, I entertain children at parties and parades and now unfortunately, in orphanages. I just thought everyone needed a laugh."

Sometimes you think you know someone, Hogan thought. "It's nice to know some of you have a sense of humor. Thanks for the bunny." Shaking his head, Hogan walked away.

"The rest of the balloons, sir." Hogan plopped the lot of party balloons on top of Klink's desk. "They mysteriously showed up in the barracks. I have no clue who the perpetrator is. I'm a pilot, not a detective."

Klink stared at the colonel for a moment. He had no idea if he should believe Hogan and let the matter go, or if he should continue to make everyone's life miserable. Klink wisely chose to let the matter go. After all, the animal invasion had stopped.

"Very well. I've got more important things to do. Dismissed." He waved his hand towards the door. Klink waited a few moments, and checked the outer office to make sure Hogan was truly gone. He reached down by his feet and pulled up the dachshund. The rest of the animals had been destroyed, but he had salvaged the dog. It reminded him of his childhood pet, although his dog was not lime-green.

"Woof," Klink said quietly as he placed it on top of his bookcase.

a/n My childhood pet was a pretty long-haired dachshund, appropriately named, Heidi! She was not lime-green.

 

Chapter 12: What Color is my Parachute?

A Missing Scene from: "Hogan Gives a Birthday Party"

"Colonel Hoooogaaaan! "

"Ein..Zwei …Drei…Vier…Fuenf …Sechs…Sieben…Acht…Neun…Zehn"

Whoosh

Updraft. Huge updraft.

"Weeeee!"

"You know. This isn't so bad. Oh, Look. I can see my quarters from here. "

Floating.

"Hold it. What's that? The ground! Coming! Fast! Very fast!"

"I'm going to die! I'm going to die!" Thunk. "I'm dead. I'm dead."

"'E can't be far from 'ere. We all landed pretty much in the same area."

"Pair up and spread out. I'll cover you." Hogan, now terrified he had lost a 300 pound sergeant, withdrew his pistol and flung himself to the ground. "Why are there always complications when I do these things?" he complained. Because you're not a quitter and sometimes plans get a bit convoluted, he told himself.

"Schultz. Hey Schultz!" Carter whispered, but unfortunately there was no return answer. "Lebeau, he's not over here."

"Schultzie. Say something. We are looking for you." Lebeau was getting nervous.

Kinch and Newkirk had headed out in the opposite direction. They checked a small group of trees and finding nothing, reported back to the colonel.

"He's not hanging from one of the trees."

"Then he's got to be somewhere in that direction," Hogan pointed. "Find Lebeau and Carter and go over every inch. We're running out of time." Hogan stood up. "Hold on, I'm coming. It's clear. All the krauts must be over at the refinery. "

The five men formed a line and began to comb the remaining area. Suddenly, Newkirk tripped.

"Oof." His foot had become tangled in piece of rope. The other men rushed over and quickly freed the corporal. "Part of his parachute! Schultz!" Newkirk popped up, and with the other four, started to trace the remainder of the parachute, hoping to find the sergeant on the other end.

"I'm dead. I have to be dead. A man of my size cannot jump out of an airplane. Colonel Hogan, I'm too old to jump. I'm dead." The sound of rustling leaves and voices caused Schultz to look up. Five sets of legs were what he saw. "I am not dead?"

"No, Schultz." Hogan said in as calm a tone as he could muster. "You're not dead, just tangled. Stay still and we'll get you out. "

"Colonel Hoogaan. You are not allowed to steal a plane, kidnap a general and then bomb a refinery! It is against the rules."

"Hear that fellas? We broke the rules. Schultz, do we get a time-out?" Hogan held out his hand and with a push from Newkirk and Carter, helped Schultz to his feet.

"A timeout? When the Kommandant hears about this, you will all… You will all." Schultz sighed. "Wait. He won't hear about this. Will he?"

"Well, I suppose if you want to tell him that you sort of came along for the ride after we told you we would be the crew, and that you knew we kidnapped the general," Hogan answered in that annoying but cheerful tone of his. The tone that meant Hogan knew perfectly well Schultz would not say anything.

"I… I… I know nothing." Schultz, as usual, capitulated.

"That's the right decision," Hogan whispered. "All right men. Let's head back to camp."

Schultz, now alarmed, said, "Colonel Hogan. It is forbidden for prisoners to break back into camp. This time, I must protest." The sergeant moved in front of the team and blocked their way.

"Don't worry, Schultz." Hogan and the rest the team deftly moved around the sergeant and continued walking; leaving Schultz alone, looking into the woods. "We wouldn't be stupid enough to break in through the fence. There are guards out there!"

"Stop." Schultz turned around. "Please don't leave me alone out here. Where are you going?"

"Well," Hogan replied. "You can follow us and watch how we get back in. You can close your eyes, count to 50, and then go back in through the gates, or if you are afraid of being alone, you can come with us. Just remember; it's a mess out there. Exploding refineries. Stolen airplanes. Disappearing generals."

Schultz didn't have to think. "I'll go with you."

Hogan pulled out a piece of cloth. "Here, Kinch. Blindfold him."

"Careful, Schultz!" Newkirk was attempting to guide the sergeant into the tree trunk. "Watch yourself. Big step." The sergeant gingerly moved one leg and then another onto the first rung of the ladder. The first few steps went well, and then…

"BLI MEY! He's stuck."

"Newkirk! He's stuck!" Lebeau yelled up the shaft.

"I know. I just said that. Pull!"

"I am pulling. You, push."

Carter, who was right underneath Lebeau, chortled. "Sort of like Santa Claus getting stuck in the chimney, isn't it fellas?"

"Ho. Ho. Ho. You're a real wit, Carter," Newkirk shouted down the shaft.

"Pleeasse. Lebeau. Get me out."

Lebeau rolled his eyes. "No more strudels for you for a while, Schultz. I'm switching to Salade Niçoise."

"He's not down yet?" Hogan had come over to the ladder to scrutinize the conundrum. "Try soap."

"Schultz, first take a deep breath through your nose and then suck it in!" This was Kinch's suggestion.

His suggestion worked. The few centimeters of space created by Schultz's isometrics gave him some squiggle room and he passed the sticking point. The men then guided him over to the bunk ladder, helped him up and left the sergeant standing in the middle of the barracks, where the rest of the residents observed the final actions of Hogan's latest caper with amusement.

"Stay there, Schultz, and don't look until I tell you it's time," Hogan ordered, as he and the rest of the team quickly formed a standard scene out of their playbook. "Okay. Schultz."

The sergeant removed his blindfold. Hogan was over by the table and holding a coffee mug. The colonel was observing his four cohorts, who were, as usual, engrossed in a game of cards.

"Schultz." The colonel looked up, a bored expression on his face. "Don't you ever knock?"

"'E snuck in so quietly. I didn't even know he was 'ere." Newkirk threw down a card.

"Something we can do for you, Schultz?" Kinch picked up the card and threw down another.

"Anything wrong?" Carter asked. "You seem a bit jumpy." He grinned.

"No. Nothing is wrong. I know nothing." The sergeant began to back up towards the door. "I saw nothing. I'm going." He turned, opened the door and walked out. Two seconds later, he opened the door and walked back in. "Colonel Hogan?"

"Yes?"

"Happy Birthday."

 

Chapter 13: Read the Fine Print

A missing scene from: "Is There a Doctor in the House?"

"I love it when a plan comes together." (1) Hogan, carrying the box of penicillin underneath his jacket, hustled over to the infirmary to look in on the sick medic and the rest of the prisoners who had also come down with the flu.

"Hey, Wilson. How are you feeling? Don't get up."

"Ugh."

"Well, I guarantee you will all feel better soon. Look." Hogan held out the box holding liquid gold, otherwise known as the still fairly rare (2) but potent antibiotic that London had graciously dropped, so that Klink would recover from his bout with the flu and go to the staff meeting.

Wilson rolled over and attempted to prop himself up. He coughed several times and then asked, "What's in there?"

"Penicillin!" Hogan answered triumphantly. "Don't bother asking why, but I had London drop some. Klink was sick and we needed him to go to his usual staff meeting. But that's not important. What is important is that they gave us two extra vials!"

That caught Wilson's interest. "That's great, sir. As soon as I feel better, I'll label them and store them in a safe place. I always said we needed an antibiotic available, seeing that one of you is bound to get shot sooner or later. Put them on my desk in the tunnel." Wilson then rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.

"Hey, Wilson." Hogan gave the medic a shake. "Um, don't you want to start giving shots to everyone in here? Including yourself? If you don't feel up to it, I can do it. The box came with directions."

"What did you say?" Wilson, who really wasn't feeling at all well; seeing that he had a temperature of 101.8; tried to get out of bed. The room was spinning and the medic had to grab hold of the edge to steady himself.

"The penicillin," Hogan repeated. "I can help give the shots if you want."

"Colonel, the penicillin won't work on the flu. It's a virus. An antibiotic will only work on a bacterial infection."

"But Klink recovered," Hogan argued. "By the next morning, he was as good as new! Which isn't saying much, but you know what I mean."

"This is a mild flu, despite how it looks," Wilson countered. "The men have been sick for about 48 hours or so, and then recover. Hey, how did you sneak the shot into Klink?"

"We used LeBeau's grandmother's cure to distract him. Garlic around the neck, plus a mustard plaster, except we were out of mustard, so LeBeau used Béarnaise sauce. I still think the penicillin must have worked. He recovered so fast."

"Well, it definitely wasn't the penicillin. Hand me a tissue." Wilson sneezed. "I'll have to think about this when I'm more coherent, but maybe Klink has a good immune system or something like that."

"Klink?" Hogan laughed. "You've got to be kidding."

"I'll say it again." Wilson was now getting testy. "It definitely wasn't the penicillin. Man, I can see this being a problem in the future. Everyone will be clamoring for shots of this stuff, when all they have is a cold and then the bacteria will mutate and become resistant to the drugs and then we will have…"

"Wilson, what in heaven's name are you talking about?"

"You know, Colonel. I really don't know." Wilson plopped back down on his pillows "Look. The best way to deal with this is to drink plenty of fluids, get a lot of rest and let it take its course. I suggest you listen to me since you're bound to catch it."

"Fine." Hogan gave in. "It wasn't the penicillin. I'll take this back."

"Colonel?"

"Yes?"

"The Béarnaise sauce on the plaster? Can you have LeBeau whip some more up? Just in case?" Wilson asked.

"You don't think?"

"Colonel. It can't hurt."

(1) I think I may have stolen this line from the "A-Team!"

(2) According to multiple sources on the internet,the efficient mass production of penicillin started in time for the allied invasion and saved countless lives. Also, according to these multiple sources (WW2 chat boards, wikipedia, history channet, etc. ), for some reason, Germany never achieved mass production of the antibiotic. Still trying here to locate better sources.


End file.
